


Trigger, Quick to Fire

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Series: The Adventures of Lana Shepard Against the Galaxy [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-12
Updated: 2010-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus notices the Commander acts different when only aliens are around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger, Quick to Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to atelierlune for the fab beta job on the fly, any mistakes wholly mine due to incorrigibility. Welcome to the world of Lana Shepard. Colonist, renegade, sentinel, and all too happy to put a bullet in your brain and ask questions later.

_a trigger, quick to fire,  
punctuate betwixt the eyes_

Garrus is hitting another overload home on an unsuspecting Batarian merc taking half-cover behind a crate when she runs up, shields down, cursing in Krogan, before switching to a language with much odder vocal stressors he's never heard. It takes a moment for his visor to recognize the language as Alliance Chinese.

“Son of a varren-humping, nose breathing whore,” Shepard swears loudly, making sure he has her covered before checking her omni-tool again. “Making a pyjak’s ass out of me, catching me with my shields down.”

Wrex is ahead of the both of them, catching the bottleneck at the door with a mean shotgun spray. He's steadfast in position but the shimmering, phosphorescent net of his immunity is starting to fade and Shepard looks worried as more mercs round the door, concern written on her face. Stopping mid-tirade to take a breath, she closes her eyes and steadies her pistol.

“Suck on this, motherfuckers!”

Three shots ring out, over the surrounding commotion, followed by three bodies crumpling to the ground.

He fires two rounds into another merc coming from the side, feels it before he even looks over at her. That now familiar electric tingle, blue crackling, and the smell of ozone around her as a biotic barrier comes up around her, giving her precious seconds to swap a new heat sink into her pistol. Biotics still on cool-down, she charges towards the incoming merc, redistributes her energy to sidestep him before grabbing the back of his helmet and holding on until her other hand connects. His head jerks to the right and she goes with it, twists. The merc falls instantly to the ground, limp as a ragdoll, neck snapped as quickly and efficiently as any other predator he’s seen.

Covering her so she can move in to help clean up with Wrex, Garrus tags the original Batarian merc once, twice, as it goes down in a slick mess on the concrete ground. Stopping for a moment to adjust, his omni-tool blinks on and takes in any new data, before winking away again.

_We should be in the clear now._

Right on cue, the gunshots stop, and he looks up to sees Shepard coming back towards him, face turned to him questioningly. Dismantling the merc's gun with swift precision, he takes only what is valuable (better heat sink, a newer rail compatible for Shepard's pistol). Tossing her the salvaged scram rail part, she gives him an appraising look as she stuffs it into a pocket.

"Good work, Vakarian," she says, placing a gloved hand on his armored shoulder, letting it linger momentarily before dropping it to her side. He meets her eyes and can see just the beginnings of a smirk on her lips, before she’s looking away, nodding the affirmative to Wrex and packing the new rail away safely as he continues to scan the merc for anything else particularly useful.

"Thanks, Commander."

He finds a couple credits and omni-gel, leaving the rest in a pool of viscous blood for whatever vermin scavenge this shithole of a planet they're currently on. He's never had a problem with any of the citadel races, but seeing Batarians always leave a foul taste in the back of his mouth, his dad's old saying of _where there’s Batarians, there’s always trouble_ echoing in his head.

"Shepard, if you're done making eyes at the Turian, could you open this damn door?" Wrex grunts ahead and to the left of them, eying a locked door in frustration before slamming a fist into the metal mere inches from the terminal.

"Jealous?" She asks, waggling her eyebrows at the both of them. "Cos' if my Krogan wants some snuggle time, I’ll put him in the front of the line, just for you."

Wrex laughs heartily. "Shepard, the day that Turian leads us and doesn't get us killed, I’ll kiss him myself."

Garrus snorts at the exchange, but stays silent, waiting for the exchange to play out, as he scans the mercs in the hallway Wrex took down. It’s still new to see this brasher, edgier, more reckless Shepard that comes out only when the threat of Saren and the Geth is temporarily blocked from her mind, the Alliance soldiers out of site, safely aboard the Normandy.

She only recently started bringing him out, Kaidan falling out of favor after the first couple of times she brought Garrus on squad recon. The missions went smoothly, and Shepard stayed with, reluctant to try and “fix what wasn’t broken” when anyone asked about her choice in squad mates. After that, it just stuck; the three of them complimenting each other’s mixed talents. She disables, he fires. Wrex leads, she follows, he protects. Ever since their mismatched team got in synch, it’s been the same M.O., like a well-oiled machine, or a finely calibrated gun.

And Garrus certainly does appreciate the beauty of finely calibrated guns.

"You're right, Wrex. He's too pretty to play the bullet sponge," Shepard adds, shaking her head and winking once before making her way towards the door with peals of laughter escaping her lips. Omni-tools out, all it takes is a few clicks and the door opens, Wrex stepping out of the threshold.

"Ladies first," he rumbles and Shepard makes a rude noise before tossing her inky hair back and sauntering in the room, her green eyes searching the room quickly for supplies to salvage or sell. Finding a tech kit in the corner, she opens it, but shakes her head pulling out a chameleon tool, no good to either of them, save a measly few credits.

“Damn,” she sighs. “Just a bunch of _tian di wu yong_ crap as usual.” She looks around at the empty shelves and broken terminals dejectedly, sweeping the room with a glance one more time before giving the signal to open the door and move out.

“Thanks for having my back there, Commander,” Garrus replies dryly, before getting up and following them.

“You’ll know the day I don’t, soldier. You’ll be full of enemy bullets before you can blink.”

He gives her a long stare before adjusting his visor. “A comforting thought, I assure you.”

They’re walking back to the mako, winding through the maze of strewn about crates and bodies, she smirks at him and is about to say something, when her face suddenly changes, insouciant grin disappearing into her lips held in a tight line. She holds up a hand in warning, motioning they take cover before she opens the door.

 _“Wo de ma he ta de fen kuang de wai sheng dou,"_ she mutters under her breath, barely audible. “Is there any planet in this damn ‘verse we can visit without getting ambushed?" Checking her omni tool, she swears more. "My signal to Normandy is jammed; it looks like this party had Geth invites we didn’t notice at the front door.”

“Trap,” is the Krogan’s only reply, the shimmering net of immunity covering his armor once more. She nods, throwing her barrier back up seconds after.

They take their places and prepare to aim as Shepard hits the locks that hold the door shut. Sunlight slants through into the building, along with the smell of sulphur through their helmets, as the sound of gunfire greets them once more.


End file.
